No words can voice my fears untold,
and anger at this stubborn land;
its people hide inside their worlds,
and blind their eyes from where they stand.

We stand upon a precipice,
of all that we now hold beloved:
a living earth to give our youth,
and conscience for the least unloved.

A moral compass, this we lack.
We twist our world to what we want,
befitting all our selfish needs,
and blind our eyes to that which counts.

No words I write can turn our hearts,
alas, this must come from within,
for each must lift the blinding cloak,
and look beyond our sightless skins.